The Zaiboch Poetry Club
by Locked Heart Ami
Summary: Folken Strategos takes it upon himself to educate the poor, illiterate pyros known as the Dragonslayers. The world laughs at his pain.


The Zaiboch Poetry Club

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                A/N: I just LOVE complete, random insanity, don't you? Anyway, please read and review… I live on reviews ^^

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                "Today," announced Folken, "I am starting a Zaiboch poetry club."

                He stood at the front of the room and wrote "poetry club" on the blackboard. The Dragonslayers, who were sitting at desks in front of him like students in a classroom, stared.

                "What's a poetry club?" demanded Dilandau.

                "A poetry club," said Folken, "is a system designed to pump some literature into you pyromaniacs."

                "Ohhhhh," said Dilandau, nodding wisely. "So, what do we do?"

                "You write poetry," replied Folken, who began handing out sheets of paper and pencils.

                Dilandau took out a lighter, grinning evilly.

                "Dilandau, no-"

                "MOREO!!!!!!"

                The paper burst into flames.

                Folken gave Dilandau a new piece of looseleaf and took the lighter. Dilandau pouted.

                "The first thing you will do is write a couplet- Chesta, Guimel, stop that!"

                Chesta and Guimel were acting out Romeo and Juliet at the back of the classroom. They stopped and looked at Folken. "Sorry."

                "Sit down."

                They sat down.

                "As I was saying, you will write a couplet. A couplet is a poem consisting of two rhyming lines. For instance…" he cleared his throat.

"Naria told me she thinks that Gatti, 

 Is pretty cute and a real hottie."

                "WHAT?!" cried Dalet. "But she told ME-" suddenly he stopped and covered his mouth.

                Gatti smiled. "Tell her the feeling is very, very mutual."

                Folken shook his head. "It was just an example. Naria doesn't like Gatti."

                Dalet and Gatti turned bright red. The other Slayers laughed evilly.

                "Take your paper," said Folken, "and write a couplet. You have five minutes. I will then collect them and read the best ones out loud." He nodded knowledgably.

                The Dragonslayers thought for a minute, then began to scribble away. Five minutes later, a tiny timer "DING"ed and Folken colleted the sheets of paper, then began to read the poems. "'I want my lighter back, Strategos' is NOT a poem, Dilandau, let alone a couplet."

                "No, but it does get the point across effectively, doesn't it?" said Dilandau proudly.

                "Let's move on, shall we?" suggested Folken, discarding Dilandau's misguided couplet. "My personal favorite was by Chesta. 

'I have a teddy bear, for when I am asleep,

And it is much better, than Guimel's stupid sheep'."

                Guimel hit Chesta across the back of the head.

                "Oww!" said Chesta.

                "Don't insult sheep," said Guimel calmly.

                "It was very concise and emotional," continued Folken. "Just perfect. A+."

                Chesta beamed. "I always knew I was the greatest!" The other Slayers glared lightening at him.

                "OK," said Folken, "The next kind of poem you will learn is a Haiku. They have five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third. For instance….

                I am trying to

                Teach the Slayers poetry,

                But they won't listen."

                "We're listening," protested Chesta.

                "Just an example," said Folken smugly. The Slayers glowered as he passed out more paper.

                "This is dumb," muttered Dilandau.

                "Just write," insisted Folken. After some discontented mumbling, they got to work.

                Five minutes later, Folken collected the papers. He sat them on his desk and read them over, shaking his head slowly. The Slayers watched with growing apprehension.

                Finally he looked up and read, "

'All Dilandau says,

Is moreo, chiku and

Die. Rather stupid."

                "STRATEGOS!" yelled Dilandau angrily. "WHO WROTE THAT? THEY'RE IN **BIG** TROUBLE!"

                Folken raised his eyebrows. "They most certainly are not. Why should they be, anyway? It's true."

                Dilandau, apparently, had no response. After glaring around at the Slayers and yelling "MOREO!" at no one in particular, he fell silent except for the occasional sullen "chiku".

                "Very good," said Folken. "The third kind of poem is a limerick."

                "A WHAT?!"  
                "A limerick." He showed them how to write one.

                "And they have to be funny?" said Chesta.

                "Write about Guimel's hair," suggested Miguel. Guimel glared lightening at him.

                So, the Dragonslayers all wrote limericks. Folken collected them, then pulled the first one off the pile and read, 

"Folken, a guy from Zaiboch

He talked and he talked and he talked

His friends the Dragonslayers tried,

To write poetry 'till they cried,

Then they gave up and away they walked."

                "Goodbye," said Dalet, and all the Dragonslayers left.

The End 


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